September 4, 2025

By Jim Towey

The 4^th of September may have been the day that Mother Teresa was canonized a saint by Pope Francis in St. Peter’s Square in Vatican City, but the world knew long before then that she was a saint by the sheer beauty of her life.

I was there that day in Rome and will never forget all that transpired. I was asked by Mother Teresa’s nuns to do the first reading at the Mass that accompanied the Holy Father’s official declaration. I stood trembling as I recited Scripture before the hundreds of thousands assembled within the loving arms of Bernini’s colonnades.

To look up and see people of all ages, races and, yes, even creeds, gathered there on that hot, humid Sunday morning was to see everything that is hopeful about humanity. The spirit of brotherhood and sisterhood that pervaded this massive communal celebration was palpable. Love was in the air because love was Mother’s fragrance.

Poorest of the poor welcomed

What was particularly lovely about the morning was the privileged place the poor were given at the Mass and the events surrounding it. The Missionaries of Charity, the order of sisters, priests and brothers established by Mother Teresa to provide what she described as “wholehearted and free service to the poorest of the poor,” had brought with them the people they cared for – the homeless, disabled, mentally ill, orphaned and elderly. A lucky few were asked to bring up the offertory gifts in the elaborate procession typical of papal services. One, a Mexican orphan named Maria Guadalupe, who had been adopted by an American woman at Mother Teresa’s encouragement, was one of the participants.  Others were brought from Calcutta to share in the joy of the festivities as most honored guests. It all had the feel of what Heaven must be like.

Mother Teresa made the poor feel special and valued. From the time she first began her work in the slums of Calcutta in December 1948, laboring alone, with no money, followers or even a convent of her home, Mother’s life was all about those who were destitute and abandoned. Her maternal love grew with the demands placed upon it.

Who will look after them?

I wrote a book about my memories of Mother Teresa and what I witnessed firsthand of her legendary compassion, grit and tenderness. You can get that book here. But one conversation I had with her is worth recounting. I had told her that she had been a bridge between the rich and poor, allowing me to come in contact with the underprivileged and realize that they had a gift to give me. She quietly acknowledged with a nod of her head what I said, but then asked me simply, “Who will look after them when I am gone?”

It remains a fair question. The poor among us are becoming increasingly invisible and irrelevant as the world lavishes idolatrous-like attention on the marvels of technology. They are shut out from modern life, bystanders in the internet age. They don’t have iPhones or debit cards. The cash they use may not be around for much longer, and then what? They eat the scraps that government gives them, sleep where they are permitted, and associate only with their own. The poor are not welcome in the places that most people frequent. They don’t own cars or fly on airplanes or sit in restaurants or go on vacations. They have no political clout or spokesperson.

The poor exist

Have you ever seen a Meta, Google, Apple, OpenAI, Amazon or Wal-Mart ad that even acknowledges the poor exist? You haven’t. Big Tech and e-commerce have no place for them because they aren’t consumers. In manufactured virtual reality, the poor stand in sharp relief by being steeped in cold, hard reality, the kind that knows suffering, hunger, deprivation, ostracization, depression, discrimination, injustice and other non-imaginary phenomena.

If actress Sydney Sweeney has “good genes,” one might conclude that the poor have “bad genes.” They come from miserable family situations, dangerous neighborhoods, and face nearly hopeless futures. They are condemned by their zip codes. While they may wander from them, they likely will not find a home in a better one.

But these same poor people were beloved by Mother Teresa, and they knew it. She affirmed their God-given dignity and reminded the world that their lives were every bit as precious and valuable as those of our culture’s elect and elite.

Friday marks the 28^th anniversary of the day Mother Teresa went home to God. The Catholic Church celebrates this day as a feast day, and properly so. She will never be forgotten. But the question she asked me redounds with an even greater urgency: Who will look after the poor, now that she’s gone?

(The views expressed herein are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Aging with Dignity and/or its Board of Directors)